


Love Letters

by TreeFinder27



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Blood, Dark, Eddie calling prostitutes sluts, Erotomania, M/M, Murder, Stalking, Unhinged characters, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-26 23:01:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18726616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TreeFinder27/pseuds/TreeFinder27
Summary: He is known as the Groom, the name he’s been so tastefully bestowed with by the police and news broadcasters for his penchant for dressing his victims up in wedding garb before he releases them from their mortal coils. He sees the result of his work on the news a lot. Well, most of the time it’s his work; sometimes it upsets him when they confuse the half-assed-hack job of some other amateur as his doing. There’s a lot of copy-cats these days, and he can’t say he’s all too pleased about it. They’re much too messy, obviously not focusing on the true point of Eddie’s work—absolving poor souls of their sins.Then he meets Waylon.Serial killer AU.





	Love Letters

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if you can call this a serial killer AU, because I'm pretty sure Eddie was a serial killer in the Mount Massive universe, but this is just a universe outside of Mount Massive.

Eddie has always had a fascination with sins. He’s led a lonely existence—his first thirty years stretching on for a seemingly infinitely long time, but he finds solace in this one thought: everyone has at least one sin. Everyone is imperfect, flawed, if you will. He likes to think that it’s his job to prove this to people who might otherwise think themselves blameless. While he’s still so very alone, he feels substantially closer to those that he helps see themselves for what they really are. When people finally get a glimpse of their true selves, this is when he feels like he’s finally able to _connect_.

He doesn’t like to drag the process out. A sharp knife and some time alone is all he needs, really. He usually only has to prowl the street for a half an hour or so before he finds someone that he believes could use his help. His favorite sinner to find happens to be prostitutes—sluts, as his mother used to so delicately explain, are never to be trusted. He could always count on a slut strutting about the streets late at night, usually in heels that were far too tall and clothes that were far too small, hair and make-up all done up. He’d goad them over to his car with the promise of quick cash, and they’d willingly come with him back to his home. He’d hand them a pretty, silky dress to put on—always white—as he quite liked the color. And, he liked to think that the purity of a white dressed paralleled the purity that he was helping them achieve. That’s not to say that all of individuals that he helped were females, or even prostitutes. No, Eddie was aware that everyone was guilty of at least one type of sin. He’d helped teach this lesson to many others—including cheating husbands, greedy capitalist pigs, and even a few especially volatile criminals; he had to admit, though, that helping prostitutes happened to be his favorite. A few cuts here and there and they were free from their lustful forms, forever free from their sins. While he didn’t like to drag the process out, he did want to make sure that the recipients of his gifts knew what they were receiving. So, when dealing with prostitutes, he would often promise extra cash if they’d let him tie them up. They were usually hesitant at first, but Eddie would dig through his wallet and flash a few extra hundred-dollar bills, which usually resulted in them nodding and sitting on his wooden chair with pursed lips while he wrapped the worn rope around their arms and legs, securing them to the seat. 

He'd then start asking questions. He wanted to know if they were aware of their sins themselves. He’s yet to meet a self-aware slut. Sometimes they played along, assuming this was part of Eddie’s game, but the smart ones knew better. They usually began to panic and struggle against the knots of the rope as soon as Eddie brought out his knife. 

They always started crying after the first cut. Eddie would try to soothingly shush them, explain that he’s only trying to help them really see themselves for who they are, what they are doing to the world with their sin. Most of them would try pleading with him at this point, promise him money, silence—anything, as long as he’d let them go. The dumb ones even promised him sex. 

A few slashes with his knife later, and there was no more begging to be heard. The white dress would turn a deep crimson, and he would rest easy that night knowing that he had helped another person escape from their sinful existence. 

He sees it as a service to the world, really. He knows he’s helping people learn about themselves, and isn’t that what the journey of life is all about? The fact that he enjoys getting rid of the trash that plagues the world just happens to be his great sin, but he doesn’t really see it that way, not anymore. He’s strung up enough sluts, adulterous spouses, and corporate climbers to feel any remorse for his actions. At this point, what he does is a public service. Although, when he watches the evening news, he gets the feeling that the rest of the country doesn’t really see it that way. He is known as the Groom, the name he’s been so tastefully bestowed with by the police and news broadcasters for his penchant for dressing his victims up in wedding garb before he releases them from their mortal coils. He sees the result of his help on the news a lot. Well, most of the time it’s his work; sometimes it upsets him when they confuse the half-assed-hack job of some other amateur as his doing. There’s a lot of copy-cats these days, and he can’t say he’s all too pleased about it. They’re much too messy, obviously not focusing on the true point of Eddie’s work. 

Although, these copy-cats do put a lot of effort into their re-enactments, Eddie must admit. There’s one copy-cat in particular that catches Eddie’s attention. They avoid the other cheesy wedding tropes, such as leaving white roses behind, or cheap rings, or even a tiered wedding cake, much to Eddie’s revulsion. No, this copy-cat leaves behind hand-written vows each time, and hides them somewhere on the victim. The last victim had one shoved deep in the chest cavity, right next to the heart. Eddie found that sort of romantic, although he wondered what these hand-written vows really said, as the media was not apt to disclose this information. 

Yes, if anyone dies with any bridal imagery upon the premises of the crime scene, it is automatically assumed to be the work of the Groom. They’re always called ‘victims’, but Eddie doesn’t really like calling them that. They’re not victims, not really, unless you think of them as victims to their own sins. It upsets him to think that he’s the only one enlightened enough to know that he’s not only helping them realize their sin, but that he’s also absolving and releasing them from their sins as well. That’s perhaps why he happens to like the imagery of a bride’s purity in her wedding day—finally clean and shiny and ready for whatever awaits her next, and isn’t that what he’s helping every one of his “victims” achieve? 

Eddie often thinks about the first women he ever helped. He had been walking home from his shop late one evening when a particularly desperate prostitute propositioned him. He had, of course, politely declined, but the slut was pushy. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, said that she really needed the money and that she’d be willing to do anything. Eddie quickly glanced around and gestured for the woman to follow him. He veered off the sidewalk and towards a more secluded area where they’d be shrouded by the foliage of a nearby forest. She walked alongside him through the trees for a long while before complaining that she didn’t have time for a nature walk. Eddie had nodded and put his bags on the dirt floor, quickly rifling through them and producing the white silks inside. He had several yards that he had planned to later use for a new dress. He had drawn a new design that he was itching to sew, but he supposed that he wouldn’t mind repurposing this fabric. He told the woman to strip and then quickly got to work wrapping the woman up in the fabric, weaving the fabric this way and that around the woman’s frail frame until it satisfied him. 

He had asked the prostitute if she believed that she deserved to wear white on her wedding day, to which she to responded to by calling him an asshole and demanding that he not waste her time with dress up. 

Eddie tried again. He asked her if she thought she was worthy of love. 

The woman had positively sneered at him before spitting at him in the face. Eddie stood there, dumbstruck, as the woman started ripping at the beautiful fabric adorning her body. 

Now Eddie had always considered himself a patient person, but he didn’t appreciate that this slut didn’t see what he was trying to do for her. The woman was still yelling expletives at Eddie while trying to escape the slew of fabric that had wrapped around her arms and legs, effectively locking her in place. Eddie wiped his face with the edge of his sleeve and then lunged forward, holding the prostitute’s hands tightly within his own. 

She began screaming, legs and arms thrashing within the silky bindings she had further trapped herself within. 

Eddie brought a hand up to her mouth and shushed her. 

“You’ve given up.” He told her, his mouth turned downward and eyebrows knitted together. “You’re ugly, and you’ve given up on love.”

The woman gave a shrill cry behind Eddie’s large hand. Eddie’s not entirely sure what had happened next, but from what he remembers, it appeared as though the woman was able to somehow free her hands and give Eddie a strong shove. However, Eddie was a large man, and rather than shoving Eddie away, the woman simply found herself falling backwards. 

There was a loud crack that echoed throughout the woods next. 

Eddie took a tentative step forward and peered down at the woman lying before him, her head smashed against a large rock. He leaned down and grabbed at her thin wrist, dropping it a moment later.

He stood there for a while, uncertain of what he should do next. He could go to the police, maybe if he turned himself in they’d be lenient? Especially if he told them it was an accident? Then again, what would the police think that Eddie had planned to do with a prostitute out in the woods? Either way, things would predictably not go well for Eddie. 

And why should Eddie rot in prison for this slut’s crimes? She was the one who had bombarded him on the street and harassed him until Eddie agreed to spending an hour of his time with her. He had planned on simply trying out the fabric on her, testing how it might look against her pale skin. He watched as a pool of red collected on the rock and then began to wet the white fabric. 

It looked beautiful, actually. 

“Love isn’t for everybody.” He sighed. “You are undeserving of love, but that’s not true of everyone.” He told this to himself as much he did the lifeless corpse. 

He then crouched down and collected a bit of his fabric. 

A moment later he stood and turned to leave, but froze when he heard the sound of leaves crunching nearby. A breath hitched in his throat, certain that he’d been found out. He didn’t’ dare to move, but stood there and waited for the sounds of twigs snapping and cracking underfoot to vanish. He had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself before he shoved the fabric underneath his jacket and started his trek back to home, his nerves racing the whole way.

He still had that piece of fabric, even today. He doesn’t like to make a habit of keeping any sort of trophies, as that seems far too dangerous, but that first time is a particular pleasant memory for Eddie. He had been so concerned that he had been discovered, but the fact that someone had seen him and yet not reported him was a sign that he was not in the wrong. 

If a random witness stumbled across Eddie accidentally killing a prostitute and didn’t think to report him, then why not continue? So Eddie did. He honed his skills over time, bettering his system of making his chosen one understand their sin, and then absolving them of it. 

Even years later, when Eddie occasionally questions whether what he’s doing is worth it, he takes out that faded, bloodied fabric and feels vindicated. 

Although, from time to time he does consider that it could have just been a raccoon out there in the woods with him. Hard to tell. 

Regardless, Eddie has continued helping random strangers—an act that he’s decided is all-together selfless. Yes, he spends his evenings enriching others’ understanding of themselves, and while this might help momentarily subdue his loneliness, at the end of the day he’s still left to consider his own isolated existence. 

But that all changes when Eddie finds his new, long-term project. 

He’s out for a stroll one morning, feeling particularly uninspired, when he notices him. He’s a short, lean man with a bored expression, but something about the man’s soft features and sharp eyes capture Eddie’s attention. 

Perhaps Eddie is so enamored by the man’s expression because it mirrors Eddie’s experience thus far—disillusioned with life. 

He’s instantly entranced, and finds the idea of not following the man for the rest of the day unacceptable. He’s surprised by how little the man speaks. He simply goes about his day, passively moving out of people’s way and avoiding eye contact. This sparks something inside of Eddie. He’s found a like-soul, someone who is a loner, just like himself. 

Eddie continues to follow the man throughout his morning routine each morning, watching as he stands in line for a coffee before shuffling off to walk to his office job, where he plops himself in front of a computer all day. Eddie leaves while the man mindlessly taps away at his keyboard, but he always comes back to watch the man on his commute back home, as he wordlessly treks back to his apartment. After the man has settled in, Eddie always peeks inside through the window, always monitoring to make sure that nobody else is around to see him.

The man’s apartment is extraordinarily generic, the man has obviously put no energy forth in decorating the space, resulting in a home devoid of any personality. Although, that means it fits in with the outside of his building—the painstakenly-common appearance of the space makes Eddie ponder whether he might have ventured through this area before, as something here feels familiar in a way he just can’t place. 

It’s not until weeks after following the man that Eddie finally learns his name. He doesn’t overhear the man being praised at work, or witness the man greeted by a friend; no, he discovers his obsession’s name by going through his trash and finding the name WAYLON PARK written on his junk mail. In the weeks that he’s followed him, Eddie has never heard anyone utter the man’s name. That alone touches Eddie’s heart. The man might be more alone than Eddie himself, which is quite a feat. When Eddie goes home that night, he whispers the name to himself in his bedroom, a warm shiver going throughout his body. He likes the name, Eddie decides, and the man, too. Eddie isn’t a man of many possessions, but he’s decided that the name he’s recently discovered is his new favorite. 

Watching Waylon helps distract Eddie from his own crippling loneliness, and he makes sure to watch him as often as he can. He’s so captivated by the man, that he’s not even distraught by the increase of activity by his copy-cats. In fact, Eddie doesn’t even notice the influx of cheesy wedding invitations left behind with poorly mutilated bodies, or the random wedding rings resting atop carcasses. Even the hand-written vows that are shoved into lungs or delicately tattooed into corpse’s skin escape his notice. He’s far too busy receiving the private messages that Waylon sends him when the man turns on all his lights, or opens up a blind that gives Eddie the perfect vantage point to watch Waylon as he makes dinner. 

Eddie reaches a point where he’s barely at home anymore. He used to have a lot of free time, most of it spent at his house wallowing in his own depressing thoughts; but now, all his extra time is devoted to Waylon. When he’s not peering through the man’s window, he likes to sit on the bench next to the bus stop in front of Waylon’s apartment for as long as he can, happy to just be _near_ the man for a little longer. Eventually, however, Eddie has to force himself to leave to get ready for his own extracurricular activities, but even as he leaves to hunt for a new person to enlighten, his thoughts are still centered on Waylon. 

Months of this goes by, and Eddie’s finds that he wants to learn what Waylon’s sin is so badly, wants to know if someone like Waylon could even have a sin. He’s not sure if he can, as Waylon barely seems alive half the time. 

After weeks spent fighting with himself, the temptation of finding out Waylon’s sin proves too great, and Eddie takes him. He knows Waylon’s routine by heart by this point, so all he has to do is break into Waylon’s apartment and wait for him to return from work. Waylon comes home right on time, as always, but this time he finds a metal bat meeting the back of his head. Eddie feels bad about that, he really does, but he’s not about to do something as suspicious as buying chloroform. 

Eddie is shaking in anticipation. He’s tied Waylon to his favorite wooden chair, and he’s just waiting for the man to wake up. He has so many questions to ask him. 

When the man’s eyes finally blink to life, Eddie is mesmerized. Of course, he has seen those eyes hundreds of times by now, but to see them up close and directing their gaze at Eddie… 

“Do you know who I am?” Eddie asks quietly. 

The man watches him intently for a moment and then nods slowly. 

“Good. Then you should know that you’re better off listening to what I tell you to do.” Eddie instructs as he approaches the man. 

Eddie stands in front of Waylon, holding his breath and waiting to hear the man’s reply, but Waylon just stares up at him. Eddie feels his body begin to warm, his hands beginning to shake out of frustration. He realizes that as excited as he is to learn about Waylon’s sins, he’s excited simply to hear the man _speak_. 

“Don’t you have anything to say? Usually people in your position start begging by this point.” Eddie growls softly. He doesn’t want to scare Waylon, but he wants Waylon to know that he’s not to be trifled with. 

Waylon simply shrugs. 

Eddie pounces on Waylon, hands barricading the man by grabbing onto the back of the chair on either side of his head and roaring into his face, “Don’t fuck with me, Waylon!”

Really, the man is toying with him at this point. He’s been bullied all his life by his peers, and he’s enraged that Waylon would consider mocking him like this. He thought he was different, but he’s starting to second-guess his judgement as Waylon simply stares up at him with a gentle smile on his face. 

Quickly, Eddie stalks out of the room. He needs to let himself cool down before he does something to Waylon that he might regret later on. He had been looking forward to getting to know Waylon, but if Waylon doesn’t want to talk to him, then fine. Eddie is a patient man, he can wait for Waylon to change his mind. 

Days pass, and he still hasn’t gotten a peep out of Waylon. He threatens violence and castration, but nothing gets a rise out of the man. He deprives Waylon of food, leaves him in the dark room for days at a time, but every single time he walks into the room to see the man, he’s met by the same soft smile and watchful eyes. It’s enough to drive Eddie mad. 

One night he decides he’s had enough. He’s going to hear Waylon’s voice, and he’s going to hear it tonight. Eddie goes out and finds himself another individual in need of some help. He hasn’t picked up a prostitute in a while, and he thinks that he’d like to see what Waylon looks like painted in someone else’s blood. Waylon has proved that he’s not afraid of his own death, and why should he be? He was barely alive to start with. But Eddie thinks that when left with the weight of someone else’s life in his hand he might be in a bit more obliging mood. 

Eddie watches Waylon’s face carefully as he drags the slut into the room. He throws her on the ground and pulls over a wooden stool. He sits her upright on the ground and ties her legs and arms together, and then ties those in knots onto the legs of the stool.

By the end, Eddie is practically growling. Waylon is simply watching him with detached curiosity. 

That does it. In three large strides he’s in front of the woman on the ground, who has woken up at some point in the process of being tied to the stool, and glares at Waylon. “Are you watching me, Waylon?” He yells as he brings his knife to rest against the woman’s neck. 

Waylon cocks his head to the side and peers at Eddie’s knife gleaming in his hand. His eyes travel lazily to the girl screaming behind her gag and then back up to Eddie. He doesn’t say a word. 

Eddie digs the knife in deeper into her throat, deep enough to cut a thin line into the delicate skin there. Even with the gag, Eddie can make out the woman’s cries and screams for help, but Waylon doesn’t seem at all perturbed. 

Eddie pulls his knife away and stalks towards Waylon. He uses the knife to cut the ropes. Waylon is staring up at him with wide, curious eyes. 

Eddie snarls and grabs at Waylon’s hands, yanking him up to his feet. Once standing, Eddie shoves his knife into Waylon’s hand and takes a step back. 

He’s not sure what he’s expecting Waylon to do, but he knows he’ll be happy as long as Waylon does _something_. At this point Eddie doesn’t care if Waylon tries to make a run for it, or uses the knife to cut the slut free, or even to attack Eddie—he doesn’t care anymore. He just wants some indication that this man that Eddie is so taken with is _alive_. 

Eddie watches as Waylon looks at the knife in his hand and then back up to Eddie. Eddie doesn’t say a word, and Waylon must take this as some sort of confirmation, because he slowly waltzes over the woman silently weeping on the ground. 

Eddie holds his breath as Waylon stands in front of the her. With a heavy heart, Eddie assumes that Waylon is simply going to stand in front of the woman and silently watch her for the whole evening, just as he is so prone to doing with Eddie, but he practically stumbles backwards when Waylon turns to face Eddie and with a small smile asks, “for me?”

Eddie is shocked into silence, finding himself only able to nod mutely.

Waylon’s soft smile grows and he returns his attention to the woman in front of him. “See, the problem I’ve always had with your work is that you end it too quickly. No offense or anything!” He quickly raises his hands and shakes them in front of himself, appearing fearful of offending Eddie. “I mean that- I’ve always really admired your presents. You’re the one who originally inspired me, after all.” He starts pacing in a circle around the stool. “I’d hoped you’d enjoyed my previous gifts, but to be able to do this in front of you...” Waylon sounds breathless as he stops circling the lady and leans down in front of her, forehead pressed against hers. “To be able to share this moment with you- it’s a real treat.” 

Eddie’s heart is racing as he watches Waylon inspect the knife. Waylon turns towards him, frowning. “It’s a little dull, don’t you think?” He gestures towards the blade in his hand. 

Eddie coughs to clear his throat. “Did-did you want something else? I’m happy to offer any tools or assistance.” He has no clue what’s going on, but something inside of him is positively thrumming with joy to see Waylon look so exuberant.

Waylon’s entire face lights up in a way that Eddie has never seen before. “You mean it!? You’ll help me?” 

Eddie swallows thickly, suddenly feeling entirely too excited and nervous at the same time. He hasn’t been this shy since the little school boy’s crush he had on the girl that lived next him when he was a young child. “Yes, of course.” His voice sounds hoarse and far away, even to his own ears.

Waylon’s whole body straightens, and he quickly waves Eddie over, reaching out a hand to him as he approaches. 

Eddie hesitantly extends his hand to Waylon, who quickly grasps it within his own, pushing the knife into Eddie’s hand, and then holding his hand over Eddie’s. 

“I always wondered why you never savored the moment, y’know? Life is so boring, just blah every day. We may be able to trick ourselves into thinking that we’re alive, but we aren’t. Not really.” He pauses here to smirk up at Eddie. “Not until we think we’re going to die.”

He moves Eddie’s hand backwards and then thrusts it, and the knife, into the woman’s thigh. She violently shakes her head, tears soaking into the bandana shoved into her mouth. 

Eddie looks at the blood spilling onto the floor, and then at the twinkle within Waylon’s eyes. 

“This is the real important part.” Waylon explains. “The part that I don’t think you pay enough attention to, even though I’ve been telling you this for a while now.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. He’s still shocked over Waylon’s behavior, but not shocked enough to dismiss this comment. “Excuse me, but how were you hoping to communicate anything to me? You’ve not spoken a word to me until tonight.”

Waylon huffs and dramatically rolls his eyes. “For all the time you spent watching me, it’s like you never paid me any attention at all. The vows, Eddie! The vows I wrote for you!” 

Eddie’s head launches backward in surprise, he barely stops himself from dropping his jaw, because really, he doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Waylon. “That was you?!” 

Waylon withdraws his hand from on top of Eddie’s and crosses them in front of his chest. “Yes!” Waylon pouts. “I’d been trying to get your attention for a long time now. When I saw you trailing me, I thought you finally understood.” 

At risk of further offending Waylon, Eddie asks, “Understood what…?”

Waylon exhales deeply and eyes Eddie warily. “Did you ever even read the vows that I left for you?”

“They didn’t exactly release that information to the public, you know.” Eddie explains.

“Ugh, that’s the laziest thing you couldn’t have told me. Do you think that I waited for the marriage propositions that you left me to hit the news? Of course not, I followed you around and looked for where you’d leave the bodies.” 

Eddie considers what he’s going to say next very carefully. “So you were pleased by my gifts?” He decides to say. He has a million questions to ask, and he’s sure that now that Waylon is talking, he’d be willing to answer them, but he’s genuinely afraid of upsetting Waylon. He appears to be far too skilled with a blade, and obviously not at all afraid to use it. 

Waylon beams up at him. “I always have been. Ever since I saw the first body you left me, wrapped up in that beautiful white dress.” Waylon has a light smile on his lips and a far-away look in his eyes. “Imagine my surprise when I just happened to come upon you in the woods behind my apartment complex. I was just on one of my evening strolls, but when I heard you say that not everyone is undeserving of love, I knew that you were talking to me. I tried to answer your call with my own response—my own promises to return your love.” Waylon stops and stares up at him with such adoration in his eyes. “And then you started following me, and I just knew you and I were going to be together forever. I was just waiting for you to take me away and sweep me off my feet.” 

Eddie blinks at him. “If you were so taken with me, darling, then why didn’t you say anything to me in the first weeks you were here?”

Waylon’s cheeks turn a light pink and he turns to look away. “I’d been enjoying our playful courtship so far. I didn’t want it to end.” 

Eddie nods as he absorbs the information. Waylon grabs his hand again, holding onto it tightly as he makes Eddie bring the knife into the woman’s shoulder, dragging it lightly across the skin there. 

“And,” Waylon starts, “I was wondering if you were going to kill me. If that was going to be your final gift to me—your final gift to your bride. I will admit, I was a bit confused when you brought this girl in.” He sighs happily as he casts a dreamy smile at Eddie. “But being able to share this moment with you is the best wedding present you could have given me.” 

Eddie can’t help it, he rears his head back and laughs loudly. All this time spent alone, and he had no idea he had something so wonderful waiting for him. 

The lady on the floor renews her sobs and starts attempting to kick her bound feet at the pair. 

“I’m glad that you approve, darling.” He says, flashing a dashing smile at Waylon. He switches the bloodied knife to his other hand and sweeps his fingers through Waylon’s hair. Waylon nuzzles further into his touch. Eddie places a chaste kiss on top of Waylon’s forehead. 

“I’m glad that you knew right away who I was.” Says Waylon, leaning up to plant a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “I was afraid that you might have thought I was just some loser trying to copy you.”

Eddie chuckles. “Of course not. I knew you were something special as soon as I set eyes on you.” _I just never knew how special you were_ , he thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I wanted to write something in which Waylon was creepier than Eddie, and I think I succeeded. Lol. I just wanted to switch things around, because in both of my other stories Waylon is sort of helpless, so I wanted to write a quick something with Eddie being shocked by Waylon’s delusions. Although, Eddie doesn’t seem to be at all upset by the results.


End file.
